


The Good Unexpected

by Lakeylou



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 22:02:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6771988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lakeylou/pseuds/Lakeylou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lizzie and Red get together which neither of them really expected. Lizzington.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Good Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own The Blacklist  
> This started off as only dialogue, and i wanted to leave it like that but decided to just put some other words in so it's understandable. Hope it makes sense lol :) Also, used a Shakespeare line which is in quotes + the 'consent' line is taken from The Middle, but I don't know if they were the exact words or not. :) Thanks.

***

 

“Did you think we’d end up like this?”

 

 

 

“No,” Red replies.

 

***

 “… I guess it makes it more special. Do you think?” Lizzie asks him.

Red's index finger starts at the top her shoulder, travels down her bare arm, sneaks under the mink blanket and strokes over the back of her hand.

His laugh is quiet but rough around the edges.

Reddington's sleepy voice, she supposes.

"I’ve always had a fondness for the unexpected. It makes life much more interesting. All the twists and turns along the way. 'All the men and women merely players.'”

“I like _good_ unexpected,” she responds.

“Well then, was this _good_ unexpected, Lizzie?”

She rolls onto her back, eyes wide and alarmed, and the sheet tightens around her slim, naked body.

“I can’t believe we’re here. I really can’t believe you are here with me. I’m sorry, Red, but it’s _crazy_. We just...”

Red links their fingers together under the blanket, squeezes, attempts to soothe her. 

He's not too worried about her reaction, not yet. She's just surprised, not regretful, he tells himself.

“You’ve never fantasized about joining me for a late night meeting with a client? In an elegant, dimly-lit restauraunt? And then, a broken down car? Me lifting you up with my hands at the back of your thighs, pushing you up against the door of this… this…”

Lizzie lets out squeak of laughter.

“You can’t say 'motel' can you?”

“Motel.”

“Because that’s where we got together, Red. In a motel. The bathroom light flickers; the television stutters; and the sheets probably haven’t been washed-”

“ _Lizzie_ , please.”

She grins at the horrified look that crosses his face.

"But we are alone,” she adds.

Red pretends to ponder her point, scoots closer to her, and decides, within milliseconds, that a shoddy motel room is worth enduring if it means he can be _this_ close to her.

“I do like being alone with you,” he agrees.

 

***

 “What are you doing?”

The warmth of his hand on her skin under the sheet stops her.

She turns in one fluid movement, presses her lips to his. His hand is in her hair within seconds.

“I was going to call Dembe,” she says to the side of his mouth. “Check on Agnes.”

"Hmm.”

“You don’t think I should?”

“If you’re feeling worried, Lizzie. Then of course you should.”

“… I’m not exactly _worried_ but...”

“Ring him. It’s your first night away from her; it was never going to be easy.”

“Yeah?"

“Tell Dembe to tell Agnes I say hello.”

 

***

 “You didn’t pick me up by my thighs Red.”

"What do you mean?"

“You asked before if I fantasized about you picking me and kissing me against the door of this room. The restaurant and car breaking down happened. But that didn’t happen; you took my hand after I kissed you.”

“Oh.”

“And you sat me on the bed very carefully.”

“Yes.”

“And then you asked me not once but twelve times whether I was certain I wanted this, wanted you.”

“I’m all about consent, Lizzie.”

“Then you took an hour to untie your laces.”

Red scoffs.

She runs her hand down his right, blushed cheek, across his chin. She brushes the tip of her thumb along his dry lips. She feels lazy, captivated, affectionate, and something else.

His lips move against the pad of her thumb.

“Now you’re just making me sound like a slow old man, Lizzie.”

“You were quite perfect actually.”

Red darts his tongue out.

 

***

 Red has found a sudden burst of energy. Somewhere between their last kiss and his trip to the bathroom. 

It's such a funny thing to see Red walking around shirtless, but strangely enough, it's the bare feet that really gets her. 

“You know I’m starting to warm up to this place,” he tells her. “Do you think they do room service?”

Liz watches him squat in front of the mini fridge.

The scars on his back are more prominent with the too bright kitchen light shining on them. She lifts her own wrist and compares their scars. They are both pink. They are both from the same source. But Red's are so extensive. The pain he must have experienced, may still experience, she doesn't know. Red told her they no longer hurt, but she's not entirely sold on that.

She swallows before tears well up and he gets the wrong idea.

The fridge is empty and Red groans.

“No," she tells him finally. "They do have a continental breakfast though.”

Red closes the fridge door, walks over to her side of the bed and looks down at her.

He pulled on black boxes earlier. 

And his chest hair looks extra tangled from her roaming hands.

Red looks a bit bedraggled.

He doesn't look so out of place now his layers are off, and she's messed him up a bit.

Lizzie stretches a hand out to him, doesn't want him to leave the bed again for the rest of the night.

“Are you hungry, Red?”

He gives her the most flirtatious look she has ever seen from anyone ever.

Ever, ever.

She tugs on his hand.

 

***

 “Red… what’s the time?”

“Just after four. Are you alright?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Cold.”

“Would you find it uncomfortable sleeping in my coat?”

“No.”

 

***

“Hey.”

“Good morning,” Red mumbles.

His voice is _much_ rougher now.

Reddington's super sleepy voice, she supposes.

He kisses the center of her forehead.

 

***

Lizzie lays on her back, stretches her arm in the air and watches the sleeve of his coat fall down to her elbow. Red is pressed against her side, and his hand alternates between fiddling with the buttons on his coat she wears, and trailing his nails along her stomach.

She wiggles in his coat and smiles at him.

“Do you know Agnes drew her first picture the other day? Well, i did hold her hand around the pen, but still.”

“What was it of?” Red asks, his lips close to her ear.

She turns to him so their noses brush.

She likes being this close. It's the kind of close you get when you share secrets.

“A sort of... scribble… but I could kind of work out a sun I think.”

“You might have a little artist on your hands, Lizzie.”

Lizzie kisses him once, twice, and then once more.

And then once again on his chin.

“You can buy all her paintings.”

"Maybe i will."

 

***

 “We should get up, Lizzie.”

“Yeah.”

 

***

“Okay, we should _really_ get up, Red.”

“Alright.”

 

***

“… Someone’s knocking.”

Red kisses down the arch of neck, breathes her in one more time.

“Yes. We should probably get up. Check out was an hour ago, Lizzie.”

 

***

“Ready to see if Dembe’s still alive?”

“In a second,” Liz stares at him, and her eyes have grown wide again. “What happens now? With us?”

Red doesn’t look at all surprised by the question.

He takes his hand off the keys which hang in the car's ignition and rests it on her knee.

“I was thinking we could go inside, see Agnes… order some take out. Perhaps we could watch a movie… read Agnes a bed time story, whatever your nightly routine requires, Lizzie. But we should probably get to sleep at a fairly sensible time considering Harold is expecting us with... open arms tomorrow.”

“You want to sleep over then?”

 _She_ sounds surprised.

“That was not a one-time thing, Elizabeth.”

 

***

 “Oh...” 

“Lizzie." Red whispers. "I got it.”

“...Sure?”

“Sleep, sweetheart.”

Lizzie can’t believe her luck, wonders if she's dreaming.

She’s still half asleep.

“Mm,” she murmurs. “I love you thank you…”

 

***

 “Morning.”

“Good morning,” Red pushes his face into her pillow to find her cheek and kiss it.

He has already opened the curtains.

“Did you sleep okay?”

“Wonderfully,” Red responds.

“Thank you for checking Agnes last night.”

“She was fine. Just woke up and couldn’t drift herself back off to sleep.”

“Thank you, Red.”

“I’ll go see her and make us coffee.”

 

***

 “Ressler knows.”

“He doesn’t know, Lizzie.”

“He _suspects_.”

“You know, now you mention it. Maybe it’s that red mark on your neck just there-”

“What!”

“I’m kidding, sweetheart. I hid them in much more... secluded places.”

“Red!”

“Lizzie.”

“This isn’t a joke.”

“It’s definitely not. Perhaps we should take the plunge then.”

“ _Tell_ them?”

“Let’s not beat around the bush. We’ve been working together for quite some time now. It might be easier to be completely honest with them. Just this once. I wouldn't want to  make it a regular occurance.”

“Tell them?" Lizzie repeats. "That’s a pretty big risk.”

“We’ve taken our fair share of risks. What’s one more? No, but Lizzie, I only feel comfortable doing what you feel comfortable doing. So lets talk about it first, see our options.”

“I guess it does make sense…" Lizzie responds. "I mean, it was only a matter of time before you fell for me.”

She grins up at him.

“Speaking of falling," Red says.

“Speaking of falling?”

“I don’t want to scare you, Lizzie. But I’ve…”

Lizzie waits two beats, but his sentence remains unfinished.

“You’ve what?”

“Fallen _completely_. And there’s zero chance of getting back up I’m afraid. A fallen down tree after a particularly horrific storm.”

“… Is this one of your weird metaphors?”

“I agree. It’s a bit weird telling you this here in this horrible post office of a building. But I suppose it is where we first met… as Agent Keen and… highly regarded,  _valuable_ asset.”

“Number four on the FBI’s most wanted list, you mean?”

“Before we go any further, please let me remind you I’m no longer number four.”

“I know, Red. I’m proud of you.”

Red beams at her.

“Look, there’s Donald staring at us.”

“Giving you the evil eye. Red, don’t wave at him. Why do you do that? You’re just provoking him.”

“As I was saying, Lizzie, I love you.”

 

***

 "Agnes is zonked out. I don't think she'll be waking tonight."

"I'm feeling quite the same," Red replies.

Lizzie strips off her clothes quickly, wants to join him in bed immediately, but she has to wash her face and clean her teeth.

"I'll be back in a second. Stay awake."

"I'll try."

"I want to tell you something."

 

***

 "Red?"

"Hello, Lizzie."

"You _are_ really tired."

"What did you want to tell me?"

Lizzie sticks herself into his chest, waits for him to wrap his arms around her in return.

"It was the good unexpected."

Red smiles at her, shuffles down in the bed so he's level with her, and leans his head forward to rest against her own.

"That's quite the relief."

 "And no matter what happens now... with work and the unpopular opinions about us that are sure to come... I do love you." 

"You know, Lizzie, if you say that one more time, I think I might be able to renew some energy for tonight."

"Really?"

Lizzie maneuvers herself over his body, presses a knee into the mattress at the side of each hip.

"No matter what happens now-"

"Ohh," Red laughs, and drapes a hand around the back of her neck. He gently guides her down to his lips. "I only need to hear the last few words."

 

***

 

 


End file.
